Aftermath
by Fasiha
Summary: Spoiler Alert! Castiel is dead. Dean is devastated, Sam has to step forward, especially as his brother turns out to be sick. And they also have a kid, more like dangerous nuke, to handle as well. This might not end well. (My little take on the aftermath of 12x23)
1. Shock

Sam could only hear his own shallow breathing. His eyes were wide as they stared at the glowing yellow eyes, trepidation pumping in his veins. His eyes were stinging from watching Lucifer pull their mom with him, from watching Cass _die_ , the angel light snuffed out from his eyes. Running a hand down his face, Sam breathed out carefully, setting his eyes on the child in front of him. The boy was too old to have just been born; he seemed to be around twelve years old. Yet, the way he had corned himself...he seemed scared. So Sam tried the gentle approach.

"I-I'm not here to hurt you," he said gently, trying to keep his voice steady. He took a meticulous step forward, holding a friendly hand out. The boy's face was obscured by the darkness in the room, but now he lifted his face, illuminating soft nose and small lips, normal features of a normal child. Sam swallowed heavily and took another step forward, the lost look in the boys' eyes convincing him that this kid might not attack him. "My name is Sam," he continued, trying to build trust. His heart was beating quickly and he was trying to push the recent tragedy out of his mind, tried to focus on this kid and the fact that he was Lucifer' child. Unfortunately, the boy in front of him stiffened at the mention of his name and Sam shook his head. "No, no, I'm nice. I promise. Me and my brother, we won't hurt you." He crouched down, only half a meter away from the young naked boy. The boy had hair that reached to the tip of his ears, and a fringe that covered his confused eyes. Those eyes now steadied on Sam and then he spoke his first words. "Wha-" he paused, opening his mouth and closing it. He then looked down at his hands and fingers, inspecting his legs and feet. Sam watched with a slight frown as the boy let out small sounds. He suddenly sprang up, causing Sam to jump up in alert, hand held out in case the boy went to attack mode. But no, the kid was swaying, looking dizzy as he uttered one word only. " _Castiel_."

And then he passed out, eyes lolling to the back of his head.

* * *

After a lot of thinking, Sam lifted the child and put him in the cot that didn't even fit him. Sam ran a hand through his hair. Everything had happened so fast, everything had happened _too_ fast. He exhaled deeply and walked downstairs, heading towards his brother. His heart squeezed when he noticed Dean hadn't come back inside, and he walked out slowly, Castiel's body coming into view. It seemed like just another dropped body, dead on the ground. But this was too much, this was Cass. Blinking quickly, Sam focused his gaze on Dean who was sitting on his knees, his back tense from where Sam could see. He walked over to his brother, the grass and dry leaves that crunched under his shoes being the only sound in the silent night. Sam bit his lip as he leaned down to place a hand on Dean's shoulder. He'd expected Dean to be crying, he was holding back tears himself, but instead he walked forward and found a blank look on his brother's face. Dean was staring at Castiel's body with nothing but blankness. Sam swallowed, crouching down beside him. "Dean."

Dean turned to face him, that blank look disappearing slowly. "The idiot thought he could take on Lucifer." He looked like it was taking him every effort to keep his composure, and there were only a few times in his life that Sam had seen his brother like this. One of these times was hell. Sam stared at the lifeless blue eyes of Castiel, which were actually Jimmy Novak's eyes, but to them it was Castiel. Sam's eyes burned, but he leaned forward to close the dead angel's eyelids. Dean seemed to snap after that. Tears welled up in his eyes and Sam didn't know what to say, didn't know what would make him feel better. At this point, they had lost everything and everyone. They had fought harder than ever, and they were rewarded with nothing but a dead friend and a gone mother. Even worse, wherever Mary was, she was with Lucifer. Sam's eyes welled at the mere thought because he knew better than anyone how Lucifer was when he was angry and frustrated. He stared at Cas, sniffing a little. Memories flooded his mind, but it made everything ten times more painful.

"Uh," Sam mumbled, wiping his eyes. "Kelly's baby wasn't born a baby. He passed out soon, and I didn't know what to do with him...so I put him to bed."

Dean was looking painfully down at Castiel, his face twisted. He then stood up, running a hand down his face as he inhaled sharply. "Okay. We wait then," he said hoarsely. Sam stood up and he could see that Dean was on the verge of tears. He pulled his brother in a hug, and they both clutched each other tightly.

"I'm so tired of losing the people around us, Sammy," Dean said, his voice breaking.

Sam couldn't agree more.

After a little time, they quietly agreed to burning the body as well as Kelly's body. Sam went to check on Kelly's kid as Dean gathered the wood. They were both exhausted as hell, but they couldn't clock out just yet. Sam wondered if they were going to be able to sleep all night after what had just happened. He didn't even know if they were supposed to be watching over the kid. The boy was asleep in his room. The wall of the room was newly painted, Sam noticed, and the name _Jack_ was painted in the middle of the rainbow with bright letters. Jack. Kelly wanted her son to be named Jack.

Sam walked back out of the room and headed towards the room where Kelly lay peacefully, unknown to anyone but them that she was dead.

* * *

The funeral wasn't easy at all. Sam didn't know whether to say the words or if Dean was going to say them. Eventually, he decided to speak since Dean looked like hell. His brother's eyes were red and he wasn't uttering a word as they stared at the burning fire in the quite cold night.  
"Castiel, you were uh," Sam took a breath, smiling watery. "A great friend. You always tried to do the right thing, and you did a lot of times. Hell, you saved us more times than we can count." He jammed his hands in his jacket pockets. "You helped save the world more times than we can count." He swallowed heavily, glancing at Dean who was staring at the fire soullessly. "We will miss you. A lot."

They stood there for a little while until the fire stopped burning. Sam started heading inside, his bones cold and tried, but he noticed Dean wasn't the following. "Dean," he said hoarsely. "We should head inside."

Dean wiped his eyes and nodded, the two immediately grabbing a drink once they did get inside. Fortunately, the fridge was stocked up. Sam couldn't help but wonder if Castiel, the thoughtful angel, had done it. The house was heavily warded, so they decided to just crash in the couches downstairs.

"Maybe one of us should look out for Jack," Sam said quitely as he took a swig from the beer bottle. "The uh, kid," he explained.

Dean plopped down in the armchair with a breath. "I can do it. You get some sleep."

"Dean, maybe I shou-"

Dean fixed him with one of his hard gazes. "I can do it, Sam. If anything happens, I'll wake you up." Sam stared at his brother's face, knowing he wanted the space, but also knowing space wasn't the best idea. But Dean was too stubborn to be persuaded at the moment. "Okay," he said finally, nodding slightly. "We'll-we'll get mom back, and we'll find a way to get Cass back too. We always do," he said, assuring them both as he lay down on the couch. He pushed his hair out of his face and stared up at the dark ceiling. He heard Dean walk up the stairs, and though he was sure his brother had heard him, Dean didn't reply back if he did.

* * *

When Sam woke up the next morning, sunshine was streaming through the gaps between the curtains. There was also a blanket draped over him, and he rubbed his eyes. Last night's events flashed before his eyes and he let out an exhale, chest constricting. That's when he felt the lights flickering in the kitchen. He lifted his head and saw the lights from upstairs flickering as well. Frowning, Sam quickly pushed himself up and headed upstairs. Taking two steps at a time, he headed towards Jack's room. The lights were flickering insanely in here, and Sam found Dean crumpled on the floor, against the wall. Jack was standing a couple feet away, head tilted in such a Lucifer way, it made Sam's eyes widen slightly. He hurried towards Dean, fear clutching his heart. "What did you do to him?" he questioned, checking Dean for a pulse. There was one, but for some reason Dean was very warm.

"N-nothing," Jack said, seeming to have trouble speaking. The boy looked to be contemplating his next words before he spoke. "He's...asleep. Jack did nothing."

Sam pushed his hair back and looked up at the boy. "You know your name."

Jack looked confused as to why he knew his own name, but he nodded. "That's what my...mother named me." Sam nodded slowly, brows furrowed as he thought, but nothing he'd ever seen reminded him of Jack. He had no idea what to do, and he had no idea to tell the boy about Kelly. He checked on Dean, pressing his palm to his brother's forehead in worry. "He's burning up," he muttered, shaking Dean lightly. "Dean? Dean?" Sam looked up at Jack, who was observing the room rather curiously. Contemplating his choices, Sam started to lift Dean up. "Jack uh, are you hungry?" he asked nicely, hoping to keep Jack like this. Disoriented, curious and innocent.

Jack nodded and Sam sent him a small smile. "I'll just put Dean to bed and then get you some food."

Jack nodded again and then stared at Dean. "His name is Dean?"

"Yeah," Sam said as he hoisted Dean up, supporting him by the waist while throwing his brother's arm across his shoulder. "And I'm Sam."

"I know, you told me last night," Jack said simply. He shivered a little and Sam made a mental note to look for clothes in this house that would fit the boy. For now, he was a little worried about Dean. His brother was too hot, his skin burning through his t-shirt. He had a bad gut feeling that the next couple of days were going to be tough.

* * *

 ** _Hiya! Should I continue this? I haven't really written Supernatural before so idk_ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯Th _ere's gonna be sick!Dean in the next chapter._**


	2. Not Well

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural**

 **Note: I haven't watched the season 13 premiere yet, but I didn't want to let the last chapter hanging. Of course, I don't think this will all happen, but you know...had to do something while waiting for season 13 :)**

* * *

Sam had brought Dean to the living room as well as found some old clothes for Jack. They were a size too large, the buttoned flannel shirt hanging off his shoulders and the cuffs sliding past his wrists, but they were all that were. Jack was very quiet which made the situation all the more awkward and difficult. Jack wasn't attacking him, but nor was he giving any indication to...anything at all. Whether he was happy or confused, sad or afraid. All he did was stare at everything in curiosity.

Sam pulled out a fresh pack of eggs from the fridge and he hatched two into the pan. Jack walked over to him, staring at the eggs in wonder. Sam tried not to look uncomfortable and instead fixed his gaze on Dean, who was fast asleep on the couch. He had guessed by now that his brother had developed a cold, a rather nasty one since he had been burning as well. Frowning to himself, Sam flipped the eggs until they were ready and then served them on a platter to Jack.

He started checking the cabinets for anything that might help Dean, but there wasn't anything to measure his fever with and nor were there any pills.

"Where's my mother?" Jack asked suddenly as Sam checked two paper bags that were standing out on the counter. Stiffening a little at the question, Sam took a deep breath and turned around. He looked at Jack sympathetically, knowing this would be hard even for a kid like him. _He seems normal so far,_ Sam thought despite himself, _and despite the flickering lights earlier._ "Jack, your mother...didn't make it through when giving birth to you," Sam explained quietly.

Jack stopped chewing and swallowed with a passive nod. "I am aware. But where is she?"

Sam tried not to show his surprise. "Uh, you...know? We...burned her body."

Jack was eating quite quickly, Sam noticed, the younger boy stuffing his face until there were no eggs left. Jack licked his lips hungrily. "Is that what you do to your dead?"

"Yes," Sam said after a moment of hesitance. "Or we bury them," he said, unsure whether he should mention the fact that burning and salting the bodies was a secure way of not having any ghosts on them. But he decided the whole spirits and monsters thing would have to wait. He glanced at the clock and noticed that it was around noon. The world would start to notice, the demons and the angels. They had to start moving to the bunker or someone might want to "meet" Jack. Sam didn't doubt the kid was a celebrity at the moment.

A groan from the living room brought him out of his thoughts and he turned to the couch, where Dean was sitting up slowly, hand coming up to rub his face. "Man, I feel like I've been hit by a truck."

Sam turned back to the paper bags, pulling out a pack of pills. He checked them quickly (it would be a disaster if he accidentally gave Dean some special pregnancy pills), and saw that they were regular painkillers. "I've got painkillers here," he called out, filling a glass of water for his brother. Dean coughed into his elbow and then grimaced. "Ugh, haven't felt like this since I was twelve."

Sam grimaced at the memory. It was a bad day for both of them since Dean never got sick, and their father had been on a serious hunting trip. That was the first time Sam had witnessed his stubborn brother sick. And what a pain in the ass he had been. Sam handed him the glass of water and pills, glancing carefully back at Jack to ensure he wasn't scared of Dean or anything. After swallowing it, Dean buried his head in his hands, letting out a moan. "Man, are you _sure_ you didn't left me on the road or anything?"

Shaking his head, Sam nudged Dean with his knee to get him to notice the kid. Though Dean seemed a little under the weather, Sam was silently glad his brother was awake to help with with the situation

"What?" Dean snapped, lifting his head up and squinting at Sam. A pain in the ass, really. Sam gave him an exasperated look as he nudged his head in Jack's direction. Dean turned his head and his eyes widened slightly at the boy, as if just noticing him. His reflexes kicked in and he was about to pull out his gun, which he didn't had, but Sam kicked him subtly in the shins anyway. "Dude," he said, dropping his voice. "He hasn't done anything. He seems normal, so far."

"He's anything but normal," Dean shot back, sending him a ' _you know it_ ' look. Sam tilted his head with a glare. He ignored his brother's comment and turned to Jack, who was staring at them in wonder. "Jack, this is Dean," Sam said, giving the boy a small smile.

"I am aware," Jack stated. "You told me earlier, Sam."

"Smartass, huh?" Dean muttered, pushing himself off the couch. He swayed suddenly, and Sam's brows furrowed worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Dean swatted his helping hand away with an annoyed look. "I'm _fine_." He walked over to the kitchen, rubbing his arm a little as he opened the fridge. Jack was watching him with calm, curious eyes. Dean swung the fridge shut after pulling out a bottle of beer, and turned around with a scowl. Sam watched as he took a huge swig of the bottle, and he couldn't help but notice how wan Dean looked. "Dean, you don't look good. I think you're coming down with something," Sam said despite knowing that Dean would just brush it off. He was right; Dean just rolled his eyes at him before turning to Jack. His gaze was hard, but it was also filled with...concern. "You're a nephillim," he stated gruffly.

Sam was about to call his brother out for being an idiot; Jack would of course not know what or who he was. But he was proven wrong when Jack's eyes turned yellow. The brother's were both stunned for a moment, and the young boy in front of them nodded seriously. "I am aware."

"Cut out the I'm aware thing," Dean said dismissively, lifting the bottle to his lips. "Just say 'I know'."

Jack looked intrigued and he sat up straighter. "Okay."

"Nephillim means you're half angel, half human," Dean continued, narrowing his eyes a little. He took another swig and let out a short breath. "A friend of ours was killed," he said slowly. "By your father, you owe it to us to bring him back."

Sam swallowed heavily, turning his attention towards Jack who was looking at Dean levelly. "You know my father?"

Dean was about to open his mouth, but Sam stepped forward quickly. "Okay uhm listen, we can catch up later, but we should get out of here. We should head to the bunker, Dean."

Dean snorted. "No, we should not. This place is warded, right? And besides, Jack owes-" he closed his mouth with a sigh at the look Sam was giving him. He wanted Cass back just as much as his brother, but they needed to be smart about it. Dean looked at him seriously. "I was...in shock last night. We shouldn't have burned the body," he said intently, pointing at the blonde boy. "Jack can bring him back."

Sam really hoped Jack could, but...what if he couldn't? He didn't want to voice that out loud, debunk Dean's idea and only hope. They needed to wait, needed to gain his trust, let him warm up to them first. Sam really hoped Dean was right, but they needed to approach this gently.

"Dean, can I talk to you?" Sam asked gently, throwing a glance in Jack's direction. Dean pushed himself off the counter, and for a moment, Sam watched his brother sway, his face turning paler than ever. Sam's concern grew and he was about to grab Dean's arm, but Dean slammed the beer on the kitchen island before heading off. Sam's eyes widened and he turned, watching Dean as he hurried to the nearest bedroom. Seconds after, they heard his brother vomiting.

"What is he doing?" Jack wondered and Sam sent him a weird look, his concern growing. "He's vomiting. Puking." The disturbing sounds stopped abruptly. "You okay?" Sam called, about to head after his sick brother.

"Is...puking always this noisy?" Jack asked, jumping off the stool. Sam watched him out of the corner of his eye as the boy grabbed a banana. Just then, Dean walked out of the room with a groan. "Puking is like the opposite of eating."

Sam grimaced at the explanation and Jack made a grossed face. Surprised at seeing an expression that wasn't calmness or curiosity, Sam's eyebrows arched. "So Jack, what do you know? About who you are?"

Dean stumbled over to the kitchen, his face tight. Sam could spot beads of sweat on his forehead, plastering strands of hair to his forehead. He knew he'd spotted a box of teabags in the one of the paper bags, and he started making tea: a soothing recipe for the throat which Amelia used to make for him. His heart clenched but he pushed the thought away. He glanced at Dean worriedly and placed the back of his hand on his forehead. trying to grasp his fever without a thermometer.

"I'm fine," Dean drawled before sneezing into his elbow. Making a face, Sam grabbed his brother's arm and pushed up his sleeve, taking his pulse. "I didn't do medicine, but you've got a fever and I think it was caused by a cold. Is your nose snotty?" Sam said, frowning in thought.

Dean gave him an annoyed look. "No. I'm not sick. You're saying so yourself, you're not medicine, you're law. You don't-" he sneezed again, face scrunching up in horror.

"Though I was only born twelve hours and thirty eight minutes ago, I believe your friend is right. You _are_ sick," Jack concluded. Sam couldn't help but smile at the disgusted look on Dean's face.

Sam patted his arm. "Relax, I've got you covered. Special tea for the throat. I'm making pasta as well and there are some fruits in the fridge. I'll fill up a water bottle for you too, it's important to stay on liqui-"

Dean waved a hand to stop him, his eyes lowering. "None of that crap. I don't even _drink_ tea, Sammy. We're ordering pizza."

Jack's eyes lit up. "What is the pizza?"

"Ugh. Sam, order," Dean said, grabbing his beer bottle to drink. Sam snatched it from his hands with a pointed look. "Dean-"

Dean sent him a look, but this wasn't just an annoyed or irritated look, emotion was underlying in it, and it made Sam stop mid-sentence. Dean ran a hand down his face. "Look, man. Don't be worried, I'll be fine. I know what you wanted to say to me before I went to puke," Dean said, lowing his voice to a whisper. "Making the kid feel like home. That's what I'm doing. Our top priority is getting Cass back, okay? You can make sure I'm fine after that."

Sam let out a heavy sigh, sending a look in Jack's- who was studying the black screen of the TV- direction. "Okay yes, fine. But be careful, we don't want it to get worse," he said, a troubled look on his face.

Despite the sweat, the paleness and the tiredness in his eyes, Dean quirked a smile at him, grabbing the beer back. "I'm always careful, _friend_."

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